


An Issue of Favoritism

by BlackBat09



Series: The Mentor [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, M/M, an AU of The Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBat09/pseuds/BlackBat09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: How Geoff Ramsey Learns to Be Very Scared of Jon Risinger, While Also Wanting to Give the Kid a Hug</p>
<p>After his friends realize Jon is cutting them off, Michael enlists Geoff to talk to the teen. Neither party is happy about this discussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Issue of Favoritism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mightbeanasshole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Aftermath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2398916) by [mightbeanasshole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/pseuds/mightbeanasshole). 



> Originally submitted to horrificsmut. I figured I should publish it myself, since I'm writing another one.

It’s Gavin who notices first.

“Risemonger’s gotten bloody quiet lately, hasn’t he?” And Michael would brush it off, make some crack about how they don’t all feel the need to have the consistent volume of an air raid siren, but then he stops for a second and really thinks about it. Jon has gotten quiet.

Usually their classmate, while not the loudest of people, is quick-witted and snappy, willing to speak up and crack a joke or at least give a laugh. His temper could rival Michael’s some days, and it also isn’t unusual to hear the boy humming or even singing as he moved through the halls.

But something is different now. Jon barely seems to speak unless spoken to anymore, never volunteering when Geoff passes off the task of reading aloud to the class, something their friend had seemed thrilled to do at the beginning of the year. Any attempts to talk with him between classes result in a brush-off or a hurried apology as he practically sprints from room to room, and even during lunch he just silently picks at his food for a few moments before dumping his tray and leaving to God-knows-where.

Jon has become eerily quiet, and Michael could kick himself that Gavin noticed first.

“Ray? Has he been talking to you lately? Mentioned anything’s up?” he asks, but the third lad just shrugs, a furrow growing between his brows as he thinks it over.

“Nah. Whenever I try to talk to him about hanging out or playing some co-op, he always just shuts me down, says there’s family shit going on. But I asked his brother about it the other day, and he said everything was fine at home, and that Jon’s been ‘busy with homework’.” Ray makes air quotes around the last few words, and the group falls silent as they all come to the realization that Jon Risinger is not okay.

“You think we should get Ramsey to talk to him? He seems to like his class,” Gavin suggests, halting a little as his face falls and his tone lowers. “Or. He did.”

Michael nods and mutters that he’ll talk to Ramsey about it, though part of him privately acknowledges that asking an emotionally-stunted, self-loathing drunk to talk to a teen who’s cutting himself off from his friends probably isn’t a great idea. Then again, maybe it will help. Kindred spirits or some shit.

When he gets home that evening, Michael sends Geoff a text and asks him to talk to Jon, mentioning that the Lads are worried about how quiet he’s gotten and that he won’t talk to anyone. He knows Geoff isn’t a counselor or anything, but the man does care about his students.

Geoff stares at his phone for a while over the stack of quizzes he’s grading, rolling his pen between his fingers as he considers Michael’s message. Jon Risinger. Huh.

He flips through the papers in front of him to look at Jon’s work, his neat handwriting spelling out answers that have earned him an 81- not an awful score, he thinks, but there seems to be something lackluster about his responses, not quite the enthusiasm he remembers seeing from Jon at the beginning of the year.

A quick reply is sent to Michael, confirming that he’ll try to talk to Risinger, as Geoff scrawls a “please see me after class” next to his circled grade. Michael’s response is appreciative, and Geoff clicks off his screen and sets his phone down so he can finish grading, slightly distracted by the thought of just what he’s going to say to his student.

Nothing inspired comes to mind, and Geoff is discouraged by his own incompetence as an adult for a little while. Not a new feeling.

The next morning, once the class settles, Geoff roams up and down the aisles, passing out quizzes facedown and watching from his peripheral vision as Jon flips over his paper and goes whiter than the pages he’s staring at. He trembles just a bit as he sets down his quiz down before glancing nervously at Geoff, the worry on his student’s face so obvious it’s painful.

His heart goes out to the kid, but he has a class to teach, and so when he reaches the front of the room, it’s all business again.

Michael chews his pen throughout the hour, worried about Jon but not wanting to be conspicuous and glance back at his friend in his recent residence in the back of the room. Class is a blur in Michael’s head, and, when the bell rings, he finally chances a look towards Jon.

The other teen looks haggard, eyes blank and glued to his desk, not even moving for his messenger bag when usually he’d already be halfway out the door. Geoff is staring at Jon, too, he sees, with that twisted, pseudo-constipated look on his face that he gets whenever he’s trying to think of something meaningful to say and coming up blank.

It’s usually somewhere between amusing and adorable, but now Michael’s just worried that he may have tapped the wrong person to talk to Jon. But, he’ll never know unless he lets them talk, so he calls out a casual good-bye before escaping out the door with the rest of the students, shutting it behind him and leaving Geoff and Jon alone in the oppressively silent classroom.

Geoff sets his elbows on his desk, leaning against his clasped hands and breathing a frustrated sigh through his nose, wishing he had a beer or counseling training or some concept of how to deal with the emotions of teenagers that he wasn’t screwing. Or a beer. Alcohol sounds nice. Risinger’s still sitting in the back of the room, shoulders tight and head tilted down, and Geoff rubs at his temples before waving at the kid, gesturing him forward.

“C’mere, Risinger. Gotta talk to ya. Grab a chair from the front row and pop a squat.” Jon looks up, despair etched in his features, and scoops his bag off the floor, tossing the strap over his shoulder and clasping it in a white-knuckled grip as he walks up to the front of the room, the pages of his quiz held just as tight in his other hand. He ignores Geoff’s directive to grab a chair, instead standing in front of his desk like he’s on trial, vague nausea crossing his features.

“Look, Mr. Ramsey, if this is about the grade, I’m really sorry. I just- I dunno, I guess I didn’t read as carefully as I thought I did? A-and I get that it’s a C, yeah, but it’s a high C, and my grades from the rest of the year should balance it out, so I don’t really get why I’m here? I promise, it won’t happen again, so if this is all you needed, I really need to get across campus to photography and I don’t wanna be late-”

Geoff has been softly saying the teen’s name over the course of his desperate rant, being bowled over by the word-vomit each time until he’s finally forced to raise his voice, cutting him off. “Jon!” The trembling teen stares down at him, wide-eyed and looking like he might be on the verge of tears, and God, Geoff cannot do tears. He lowers his voice again. “Jon. It’s not about the grade. Sit down, buddy.”

Jon nods, posture telling of discomfort and panic and all sorts of reluctant emotions that Geoff can totally sympathize with as the teen grabs a chair, but Geoff recognizes that he needs to be the adult in this situation, and so he pushes away his wishes to just hide under his desk and avoid this conversation entirely in favor of watching the kid carefully as he sits.

“Mr. Ramsey, if it’s not about the grade, what- what do you need to talk about?” Jon asks quietly, and the childlike fear in his voice make Geoff feel so very, very old. He ignores Jon’s question in favor of asking one of his own.

“Is everything going okay with you, kid?” The teen somehow manages to stiffen further, and Geoff would be impressed if it didn’t worry him so much. “I noticed you moved yourself to the back. You don’t volunteer to read anymore. And, I mean, I guess it kind of is about the grade, because that-” He points at the papers starting to wrinkle in Jon’s tightly curled fingers. “-That is not Jon Risinger’s work.” Jon doesn’t say anything, and Geoff sighs again. He hates sighing this much. It makes him sound like an asshole.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m worried about you, buddy. And I’m not the only one. Gavin, Ray, and Michael told me-” He stops himself when a sneer pulls at Jon’s upper lip, more passionate emotion than he’s seen on the student’s face in weeks hitting him before Jon’s mouth flattens back into a line, something hard and vicious taking up residence in his eyes. Geoff loses his train of thought at the intensity for a moment, fumbling back into his concerned-teacher speech. “They mentioned you haven’t been hanging out with them anymore. Is… is there an issue with you and the lads?”

“Nope,” Jon replies curtly, popping the sound as a humorless little smile splits his face. “No problem at all, sir. I’ve just been busy. But God forbid anyone be too busy for Ray Narvaez, Jr. or Michael Jones.” And, wow, Geoff can taste that bitterness. Something has very much gone wrong in the boys’ friendships, because Geoff has never seen this much animosity between people at this school, and he watched Ryan and Heyman nearly go to blows over Narvaez.

It baffles him, though, that something can be this sour, this spoiled, but only Jon seems to know what’s wrong. He doesn’t seem like the type of kid to get up in arms over an imagined slight- Jon’s too bright for that, too perceptive, and Geoff has no idea what to say, mouth hanging open until he snaps it shut and tries to search for the right words.

The silence is apparently too long, because Risinger huffs softly and stands, grabbing the back of the chair to drag it back into place. “If that’s all, sir, I really do need to get to photography,” he murmurs frostily, but Geoff’s not having that bullshit, no sir, and he rises out of his own seat to grab the teen by his wrist, watching the kid flinch as he touches him and wondering if he’s done something wrong now, too.

“Risinger, don’t try to give me passive-aggressive crap and then just walk out of here like nothing happened. I’m trying to understand and help you without treating you like a goddamn child, but if you’re going to act like one, then it looks like I’m gonna have to change tactics.” Jon stares at him, shock overcoming the hurt and hate in his eyes, and Geoff holds his stare for a few beats of silence. “Park your ass, kid. We’re not done.”

Jon wavers, expressions slipping over his face as he considers his options before dropping back into the chair, tugging his wrist from Geoff’s loosened grip and crossing his arms over his chest. Not a good sign, but Geoff pushes on. “Look. I dunno what happened. I dunno why things changed all of a sudden, and neither do those boys you’re so pissed at. So whatever it is that you’re holding close to your chest, you need to get your shit together and tell someone. Because I have a feeling if you just keep quiet, you’re gonna hurt some people that mean a lot to you, and then you’re going to regret it.”

He doesn’t know when he stopped talking to Jon Risinger and started talking to himself, but whatever.

Another moment of silence passes, Jon staring down at his lap and chewing his lip before he finally mutters, “I just don’t get it.” And Geoff wants to lay down on his desk and just groan until death grants its sweet release, because how vague can you possibly get, but he gets himself together mentally and responds.

“What do you mean, Jon? What are you not getting?” The kid finally looks up, the fire gone from his gaze and replaced with pain, a raw ache in blue eyes that makes Geoff feel like he’s staring into a mirror after a hard night.

“I just- I work my ass off, you know? I love this subject, I love English and literature, and poetry most of all, poetry is- it’s phenomenal! And Ryan, with him last year we had Shakespeare and stuff, and he brought theatre knowledge into it and it was great, because I love theatre and learning all the cool stuff that went along with it, so we weren’t just reading plays like a flat book, we were actually _reading_ plays, but-” Risinger struggles for words and Geoff just watches, this flood of passion taking him by surprise and leaving him aching for the kid when the life deflates out of him. “But to you, it’s all about Michael. Who only barely seemed to give a shit last year, but is apparently a prodigy this year. And with Ryan, it was all Ray.” Jon bites his lip, mulling something over as Geoff looks at him, this teen who is far more hurt than he ever could have imagined.

“And I get that- that it’s not cool to be envious of them, or whatever. I should be happy for Michael, for finally finding something he’s passionate about, and for Ray, who…” Jon takes a deep breath. “Mr. Ramsey, can I- can I say something without it leaving the room? I don’t want to screw anything up for anyone, but I also can’t just- not acknowledge this, because it’s driving me nuts and I have no idea how no one else has seen it.” Panic drags a cold finger down Geoff’s spine and drops a few ice cubes in his stomach, but he keeps his face composed in gentle concern and nods.

“Whatever you need to say, Jon. I’m not saying a word, I’m just worried about you, buddy.”

“I think there may be some sort of feelings between Ryan and Ray,” he says haltingly, volume barely above a careful whisper, and Geoff wants to die. Apparently he was right about how perceptive Risinger is; now he just has to pray that the kid’s eye never turns to him. “When Ryan visited, I wanted to talk to him one-on-one, just kind of catch up, maybe ask about majors and things like that, because it seems like he really enjoys his coursework right now. But when I was gonna try to catch him at his car, he was already out there talking to Ray, and they were, well. Really close.” Jon swallows thickly, finally releasing the death grip on his bookbag strap to push some of his hair behind his ear.

“I don’t wanna think badly of Ryan. That’s the last thing I wanna do, so I guess I kinda pushed it off on Ray. Hated him for receiving favoritism because of something like… that,” the teen continues to explain as things start to fall into place for Geoff. No, Jon wouldn’t want to think badly of Ryan, or get him in trouble, would he?

What a tangled fucking web this school is. Goddamn. How did he let Gus and Burnie talk him into this?

Jon’s soft sigh pulls Geoff back to the conversation. “I guess I’m just being petty,” he mutters, “and now I’ve unloaded it on you, which is just great of me. I’m sorry it got bad enough that the guys dragged you into this, sir. They weren’t even supposed to notice.” Jesus. This kid is… Is this what Michael feels like talking to him? Geoff’s got a feeling it is.

“Hey.” Jon looks up, every emotion that had come through the kid gone again, leaving him looking drained and pitiful as he meets Geoff’s eyes. “You’re not burdening me, Jon. You’re allowed to be upset, and rightfully so if you think there’s an issue of favoritism in my classroom.” Not that there isn’t some favoritism, but he tries to keep it out of his grading. “I’m truly sorry if you feel like your work is under-appreciated, because I never meant to be that way. Believe me, Jon, you’re great. That analysis you did of that Gaiman poem was wonderful.”

A weak smile is the response he gets, and it’s encouraging, mostly because it’s not facetious.

“I don’t ever want to make you feel undervalued. And I miss your voice and your opinions in class. So, please. I’ll work on making sure everyone has a voice, not just Jones, and you work on smiling again, okay?” Geoff offers, and Jon nods, lashes fluttering as the teen tries to blink away tears.

“Thank you, Mr. Ramsey.” God, Geoff wants to hug this kid. Instead he just offers his hand, which Jon shakes firmly, weak smile growing a bit stronger.

“I’ll write a note for your photography teacher, alright, buddy?” Jon nods again, quietly watching Geoff scrawl out an excuse note for him before pushing it across the desk. The teen takes it and stands, putting his chair back in the desk he’d pulled it from and scooting the strap of his bag higher up his shoulder.

“Have a good day, Mr. Ramsey,” Jon says with a little wave, leaving the classroom with a confidence in his steps that’s been absent for a good while, leaving Geoff sitting at his desk with unnameable emotions swirling in him.

“You, too, Risinger. You, too.”


End file.
